


The Man Who Damned You

by slytherfoot



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (who might get featured soon oOooOOh), Cheeky TARDIS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grinding, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add more tags as I release chapters but basically these two are adorable, M/M, My Dumb Boys, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sentient TARDIS, Tickling, Time Lords am i right, Torchwood - Freeform, about jack as a time traveler and vortex manipulators, also they get, and he was fleshed out and gentle and had a lot more depth than in dw, and jack is a Good Boy, but yeah rtd did a great job anyway enjoy, gallifreyan might be easier but theyre not there yet, high, if his characterization doesnt quite fit doctor who, it's an Established Something and words are tough so, its cuz i used to be obsessed with, jack is too patient something smh, jack is v patient but sometimes the doctor is not, lol, lots of them being cute and confused and just, off a dentistry balloon, quasi-established relationship but they dont know what they're doing, set sometime after season 2 but it's not that important there are mentions of rose but that's it tbh, sigh, the doctor can be a lil bitch sometimes, the master is a MEAN BOY, the tardis is a master wingman, trying to figure it out, when is the doctor not drowning in angst guilt and the past, which is fair cuz like it be like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25581424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherfoot/pseuds/slytherfoot
Summary: Jack and the Doctor have been travelling together for quite a while, though Jack is getting restless. Yes, he and the Doctor have always teased and messed with each other (and he wouldn't have it any other way), but the line is getting harder and harder to define; the only certainty is that they're both in flux. Life is as simple as it can be for two quasi-immortal observers of the time-space continuum, but what happens when Jack finds out how to fly the TARDIS?
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Comments: 20
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

“Doctor.” Captain Jack Harkness strolls into the console room. The TARDIS pulsates a greeting and Jack pets the dashboard.

“Jack! What do you think the universe has in store for us today? The TARDIS has been humming me towards the Couplet nebula but -” finally the Doctor looks up from his navigation. “Jack, what’s wrong?” A furrowed brow prompts the man uncomfortably, and the eyes of concern don’t help.

“Doctor, I - it’s not anything wrong, I just wanted to ask you about how the bedrooms work.” A beat. “Like, how the TARDIS organizes the bedrooms.”

The Doctor shrugs, “She seems to know how to bounce them around where they need to be. Always seems to know who’s coming before I do,” he muses, tinkering with a wonky vortex compass, spinning incessantly in all directions. It seems there is always something that needs fixing, or tweaking, or just attention, really. The TARDIS tries to do her best, but both she and the Doctor suffer from having a solo pilot. Things were just so much easier with a full fleet of ten pilots.

“Have you ever thought of teaching your companions how to fly?”

“Yes. The Wright brothers don’t like me very much.”

“I meant the TARDIS.” The Doctor blinked. How did Jack know that was what he was just thinking about? The compass just chimes. 

“Cheeky little thing,” the Doctor mumbles.

“Why, thank you,” Jack preens.

“Too complicated, mostly. Been doing it for 900 years and I still don’t know where I’m going half the time,” he rests his chin against his hand, pausing from being a mechanic to be an observer of the console’s great mysteries. Some things don’t change.

“I feel you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Jack saunters over and plops himself close beside the Doctor. “The TARDIS seems like the co-pilot, anyway.” The Doctor snorts.  
“Sure keeps me on my toes,” he admits, then flicks on his positivity, “but! Wouldn’t have it any other way, right?” the Doctor turns his head and Jack is much closer than he thought. “Suppose you keep me on my toes as well.” They shift slightly, just enough to be leaning on each other, dependent for a little stability. 

Jack sighs, “As if you aren’t the one running me ragged,” he guffaws, pushing the Doctor’s arm with his own, their limbs slightly moving with the pendulum. The Doctor looks quite fondly to the distance. 

“You couldn’t handle ragged,” a low quip slipped out before the Doctor even thought it. Aaaand, shift. 

The Doctor feels Jack turn towards him. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Depends.” The conversation starts, but the Doctor does not know where he is in it. His brain pauses and just lets him talk not knowing what will come next. But he trusts Jack, and nothing he could say could actually change the two of them - not after everything.

“Depends on…?”’

“Do you actually want to learn how to fly the TARDIS?” Jack smirks and winks, but asks instead of answering.

“Why, would I be the first?”

“Though you’d love to be my first,” the Doctor grins with a nudge, knowing just how to play with Jack when Jack is trying to play with him.

“So no one else? Ever?” The Doctor’s nippy humour and Jack’s question both faded with the moment. Jack stays still, waiting patiently for the man always short on time. 

“Suppose my granddaughter did,” he confesses, “She was quite good at it.”

“Is her room the one with the toy console?”

The Doctor cracks to attention, “What?”

“Remember I was asking about the rooms?” Jack continues, shifting back into the Doctor’s comfort zone. “I think the TARDIS had a mix-up because the door is always open across from mine, but only every ten weeks.”

“Susan’s room is always across from mine, though,” the Doctor says, “The TARDIS has never moved it.”

“The only thing in there that the TARDIS draws me to is that little playset,” he leans back, hand sliding behind the Doctor, “You know how I love toys.”

The Doctor laughs lightly with a thin blush, “Well, you know, wasn’t too far off from the little mechanical bench I used to have - it’s when I discovered I love wood,” the hand slides along, slowly, patiently, like a man with all the time in the world to let the Doctor decide. This was the game they played. 

“So I’ve taught myself how to fly the TARDIS,” Jack shrugs simply. The Doctor turns to Jack, hand flying to hold his waist while he twists to look at him.

“You taught yourself how to fly the TARDIS? I had to go to school for that, you know, like an A-level-”

“Well, maybe you forgot, but I am a captain trained in temporal vortex manipulators, and I’ve been around you for a while,” Jack says, a little indignation flutters through from the Doctor’s flabbergastion that he figured out how to use a toy.

“No, I know, it’s just,” the Doctor’s hand flies up and then he doesn’t know where to put them. “Think about that. She is the last person I piloted this ship with.” The Doctor just keeps looking ahead, eyes glazed with nostalgia; Jack tenderly touches one of the Doctor’s hands and he doesn’t flinch at all. “No one else. Ever. And now there’s you.” The Doctor finally looks to Jack and Jack sees the other side of the Doctor. Not the destroyer of worlds or the oncoming storm, but a lonely old man in a box, exploring the universe with a registrar of temporary explorers to go with him.

“About that,” Jack is now supporting the Doctor with his chest. If the Doctor focuses, he might be able to hear Jack’s heartbeat, but he should know better. The Doctor is always focused. “Me. Who am I to you?”


	2. Chapter 2

Jack and the Doctor hold eye contact and the latter sighs. “Jack, what do you want to be?”

Jack’s hands slide up the Doctor’s sides to incapacitate him. “Companion is too easy, I’m graduating with flying colours -” the Doctor hums pleasantly “-and I want to fly the TARDIS with you -” Jack’s hand softly encapsulates the bony digits occupying the compass’ surface area, “-and I want the TARDIS to change the bedrooms again.”

“What was that last one?” the Doctor was sure he heard right. Jack gives a ‘you’re really gonna make me say it, huh?” face. 

“We’re only on chapter two, you know that, right?” 

“Oh, no, Doctor, we have enough stories for a lifetime. Two of yours, actually. And if you count the amount of times I’ve ‘died,’ we are way past chapter two.”

“The pacing is a bit wonky,” the Doctor critiques, then remembers time and space are wonky and constructs anyway, and he’s in no position to judge pacing - or linearity for that matter. 

“You are in no position to judge pacing - or linearity for that matter,” Jack gives him a pointed look. The Doctor gives the TARDIS an equally pointed look. Dear, did you do that? I have no idea how, but I bet you did that, he thinks.

“Come on, I’ll make it worth your while,” he teases, “I meant that the TARDIS could put our bedrooms across from each other, but since we’re on the subject...” The Doctor doesn’t quite know what that subject is, but that could just be because he’s a bit distracted by Jack’s lips. Not for the first time, obviously, but they’ve never been this close… obviously…

Jack knows quite well that even if the Doctor doesn’t quite understand pacing, going too fast is not worth the risk. He’s trying to stay in the moment as best as he can while remaining hypervigilant of the Doctor’s comfort level. The Doctor has been... quite responsive, though, so Jack leans down, hands scattering in favour of closing the gap between them, daring to hoist the Doctor into his lap. He holds his breath, ready for the Doctor to (rightfully) dash off at any time. He’s not that used to rejection, but the Doctor is different. Always has been. This could just be part of their game. “I promise I’m gentle.” 

“I’m not,” the Doctor hisses, desperately invoking seduction, “Y’know why, Jack?” Jack’s a little preoccupied by discovering the soft patch of skin between the Doctor’s fourth and fifth rib, but he did recall being interested in that. 

“Mhhmm,” he manages.

“You can’t die.”

Jack speaks as though he already prepared for this, “You still kissed me when you thought I could.” Jack’s fingers flicker across skin, electrifying both of them. The Doctor sighs and leans into it, melting under trusted hands.

“I kiss a lot of my companions - definitely more than I should. Do you think there’s a grey area there with Stockholm syndrome?”

“You talk too much,” Jack says, “Just relax - in general, but also right now.” Jack is still very close. Very, very close, yet whispers softly. “C'mere,” and the Doctor obeys. 

Jack seeks and quickly finds the rippling muscles of the Doctor’s back. “Bet you need quick reflexes to fly the TARDIS,” The two have shifted now. What was a duo coexisting now manifests as the Doctor sliding between Jack’s legs, putty in his lap. “Running around the console, thrusting the permanator-”

“What was that just now?” the Doctor blinks to attention. “What did you just say?”

Jack just smirks. “Told you, I’ve been studying with distinction. Especially because I figure if I’m gonna get to you, she’s the equivalent of meeting the parents - but the good news is that she finds me quite dashing.”

“I don’t know whether to feel jealous of you or the TARDIS,” the Doctor quips with a hum. He feels the hair by his ear part, Jack nustling his voice close,

“You can have both.” The Doctor turns to look Jack right in the eyes, lust with a layer of analysis. His hand goes to Jack’s heart.

“You’re in for the long haul, huh?” he muses, fond eyes flickering with - yes, that’s excitement; smart, lusty, and excited eyes. Bingo. 

Jack kisses him sweet. This is new. Kissing not so much, but it wasn’t the somber first, or the rather sloppy seconds, or the drunken third, but a sobering fourth; better than anything magic.

Not that either really knew where this was going, but it was still a little surprising that the Doctor stays indelibly gentle. Jack was not used to gentle, between the hot fucks and the notoriously back luck. But even being buried alive was a feeling that could melt in the presence of a fellow martyr. Jack wonders if the Doctor is used to being gentle. Of course, he was always fascinated, but he wouldn’t even know where to start with the Doctor’s sexual history. Does each regeneration become a virgin again? Has the Doctor had ten first times? Where was Jack on the list? Where was the Doctor on his?

“Stop thinking so much,” the Doctor murmurs into Jack’s mouth.

“Can you tell what I’m thinking?”

“No, but it's making quite a ruckus,” he nods over to some Gallifreyan runes going bonkers.

“Okay, you know I don’t know what that is,” Jack smirks into his lips.

“Oh!” the Doctor pops right off of them. “Right! It helps me keep track of synapses firing around the room - usually mine, they cause interference… but when someone is thinking dirty thoughts, it goes ballistic,” the Doctor jeers. 

Jack sputters, “What, me? Never! Ain’t that some violation? Or do you chalk that up there with inserted translation software?”

The Doctor just grins, “Gotcha.”

Jack blushes, “Oh, okay, you were lying,” he says.

“A lil’ fib. Just an itsy bitsy one, just to get you to admit it,” the Doctor is almost giggly. 

“Yeah, Doc, surprise, I got the hots for you.”

“So romantic, tell me again.”

“You’re the most beautiful being I could ever fuck in this universe as both you and I know it,” Jack repeats. The Doctor just cocks his head.

“That’s fair, you get to fib, too.” The Doctor leans in to kiss Jack again but a gentle hand asserts itself on his chest.

“Doctor.” The man in question looks practically anywhere but to his beau. “Doctor, look at me,” Jack says, and he does. There is a sincere vulnerability in his eyes that looks at least 900 years old.

“Who do you think you are to me?” he asks gently, cupping the Doctor’s face and feathering his thumb softly across his lips. The Doctor pauses and Jack feels resistance.

“Well, I’m the Doctor, aren’t I? Damn good chauffeur, can run pretty well, made you so you can never die and will watch everyone you love perish,” he says, all with equal chagrin. 

Jack’s expression softens and the Doctor’s follows suit. 

“Who do you think you are to me?” he asks again, somehow even softer. 

And it is at that volume, as soft as a hitched breath, “The man who has damned you,” Jack hears, “The man who has effectively trapped you in this box because there’s nowhere else and no one else you can go to who can survive your lifespan,” he gets quieter. The Doctor slips his forehead against Jack’s. “How can I live with that? That I’ve done this to you, and what, now, seduced you? Just one more way I’ve removed you from what you knew?”

“I didn’t know shit, Doctor,” his hand flies to cup his ass. “I lived a life of imperialistic greed and loneliness. Now I get to spend literally all of eternity thanking you for what you’ve done for me. You have given myself to me and now I want to give myself to you.” Jack repositions the Doctor in his lap, both moaning with the upgrade from emotional vulnerability. Rolling their hips together, the Doctor’s head bows and groans in Jack’s ear.

“Great, great, uh,” he huffs, “One small change, though,” the Doctor grinds down hard on Jack’s dick, fabric rubbing viciously. “I’m the one giving myself to you,” and Jack understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOPS. DON'T LOOK AT ME IM GON' GO HIDE FOR A COUPLE DAYS BYE ENJOY ALSO HEY THANKS TO THE DISCORD THAT I HAVEN'T GONE BACK TO YET BUT HEY Y'ALL R COOL AND I INTEND TO ^.^


	3. Chapter 3

Time Lords appear to have very sensitive skin, he notes, as he rakes his nails up the Doctor’s sides, insisting under fabric, and Jack feels the man melt, the puddy of the time-space continuum itself in his hands.

“H-ho, Jack, this is gonna get pretty dirty pretty quickly,” he laughs, but Jack detects a note of hesitation.

“Hey, what’s up?” He coos, relenting on the sensations. The Doctor looks flushed - very flushed. Fucking hot as hell flushed. 

“Well I’m your dream date, I’ve never slept with a man in this body,” the humour is distilled by concern.

“Oh, okay,” Jack pulls back a bit, nails turn to dancing finger pads. “You tell me, Doc, what do you want?” he asks, voice low, a hint of wetness. The Doctor makes a guttural tone. “What can I give you,” the Doctor beings to loosen up again. “It’s me, Doc, we’ve danced before, we just never got to the tango,” he lifts, mouth moving to kiss the Doctor’s jaw and he bares his neck - rookie mistake. While hands slowly lap at body parts, a squeeze here, a brush there, a bite where it feels good. The Doctor’s head keens with a moan. “Like that, Doctor? Always pegged you for the sadistic type,” he chuckles, but the doctor returns to him.

“I’m huge on hickies, but actually, you’ve got me straight on. Every regeneration where I’ve slept with a man was a doozy, but I want to try something else… with you,” he says. Jack is surprised by his lack of confidence.

“Do you trust me?” Jack’s nerves juggle his heart. The Doctor nods emphatically.

“Yes, of course. That’s why I know you’ll listen,” he murmurs, pulling closer once more to dash any doubt. “Haven’t always had someone prioritize anything but sex,” the Doctor says this with nonchalance, but anger flickers briefly in Jack’s eyes, which, of course, the Doctor studies. 

“Who.”

“Does it matter?” the Doctor asks delicately.

“Yes. Yeah, it does,” Jack holds the Doctor close, protective, relentlessly gentle. “Because after I wed and bed you, we’re going to those people and I’m gonna incinerate them,” the Doctor scoffs, but Jack’s defensiveness persists. “No one has the right to treat you that way.” 

The Doctor looks away. “Jack, the universe doesn’t owe me any favours. I try to make up for it when I can,” he says, resigned and tired. Jack is ready to pull words but holds the Doctor tighter in a loving embrace.

“Doctor, letting people hurt you is not a currency to pay off your debt,” his sincerity is not quite landing. “Doctor, where did you get that from?” The Doctor shifts uncomfortably, likely remembering how this proximity has posited danger in his past.

“Well, uh…” Jack sees he is trying to open up, but Jack has had his fair share of trauma, and knows the difficulty of putting words to pain. 

“No rush, please,” Jack says, “Please make sure you’re comfortable here,” his hands brush to soothe shaky legs. “It doesn’t have to be now. Would you feel more comfortable with some physical distance? We can go sit on the ledge and stare at space, or-” 

“I wanna be this close, I want to go to the bedroom and cuddle with the lights low,” the Doctor smiles fondly and cards his fingers through Jack’s hard. Jack slips in fingers through the unoccupied hand and helps the Doctor rise. 

After getting comfortable in some 1800s pajama ensembles, they slip into bed in Jack’s room. Cost, homely, an undertone of cedar and romance. Jack let’s the Doctor determine their proximity, but the Time Lord insists on total deduction of personal space. Squeezing Jack’s forearm, pulling his arms even further. Jack holds onto the Doctor as sweetly tight as the universe allos. Both sigh as the lights dim, a soft flickering to brood a calm atmosphere.

“Well, I guess telling you about the Master is as good of a start as anything,” already tensing in discomfort, but Jack firmly envelopes the man with ease.

“Isn’t that the jerk who you’ve known forever, who tried to kill everyone you’ve ever loved, and almost destroyed earth, like, fifty times, and has been…” Jack chooses his words carefully, “A major dickwad?”

The Doctor resists Jack's hold on him and he thinks he may have crossed a line. The Doctor dances out of Jack’s arms just for a moment before twisting back to his embrace, changing the dynamic of his story-telling. The Doctor now trusts Jack with the vulnerability of his irses. This close, this deep, this enthralled, Jack can read the Doctor’s soul. 

“We both saw the time vortex. All of my people, all of them dead because of me. That’s what he would repeat for the one you didn’t meet, my post-war regeneration,” although Jack urges the Doctor to take his time, the Doctor pushes onwards, “The vortex shows you everything there ever was and ever could be. You see that as a child, before a lifetime of exploring it all. Imagine sharing that lonely sensation with only one other being who chases you through different personalities.” The Doctor looks up, down, all around, though still manages to keep eye contact during the important bits, “I’d lose track of myself because it manifested so many different ways, and he just tried to dominate me so many times. A lot of it included trapping me and repeatedly reminding me how badly I should bend at the mercy of deserved pain. And every time, he would try something new, some new way to make me hate myself and justify his abuse.”

Jack just listens. Not breaking a fraction of eye contact, eyes watering from not blinking, but more significantly the pain he is being exposed to. Honoured by the trust the Doctor has in him, heart-broken for his dear Doctor. He burns inside at the thought of this “Master,” whose mere name makes Jack sick with rage. Jack stays as still as water, no ripples in his reflection, no disturbing the waves. A calm lake is what the Doctor needs right now, a calm presence, calm love, calm hands. Jack brings his hand up to the Doctor’s face, cupping his jaw, fingers treading gently into his sadness, all the while mourning with the Doctor the pain he has endured, and the self he lost.

Fingers flit past his eyes, upwards into his hair, massaging his scalp lightly and lovingly. Trying to shoot from his heart to his fingernails, Jack intends to show the Doctor his own strength, through praise of every iota of the Doctor’s self. 

Jack moves very slowly, no waves, low tide, to draw the Doctor in and butterfly kiss his quivering lips. Jack’s lips move onwards to his forehead; from there to his brow, to his temples, to his cheek, to his chin, to his nose, and to his knuckles, lifting a shaking hand to his grasp, trying to communicate his love in every form. “Thank you,” he whispers, and the Doctor’s irises that he bore blurred with tears.

“Never told that before,” he sniffs, bringing a bit of animation back into his features.

“Not even to Rose?” Jack asks. The Doctor looks away with shame.

“No,” he whispers, “Not even to Rose.”

Jack pauses, hesitating to say anything at all, but this is his Doctor, too. “What’s it like without her?” he pets the Doctor’s face while tears bubble up. He misses her, too.

“What’s a day without the sun?”

“What made you trust me?” Jack continues to knead the Doctor’s hand, seeing the man deflate with serenity. 

“The universe sent you to me, didn’t it?” more of a statement than anything else. “Big strong man like yourself is a useful gadget on this ship.” Jack sees humour guiding the Doctor away from vulnerability. Jack is happy to follow his lead. 

“How sweet. A gadget. I’ll put that right up there with snookums, boo-bear, and darling.”

“Okay, darling,” the Doctor says and kisses Jack sweetly. Jack’s hands lift up to hold his face, willing this moment to last a little longer. The Doctor sighs into it willingly, his own hand going to hold Jack just as well. Grounded in the junction of time and space, still. Like the world stopped for them, just for a moment, a moment well deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tee hee pls validate me


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor’s priorities have shifted around his new relationship with Jack. Time, space, relative dimension, and cuddling Jack, in reverse order. Adventures often end on more of a walk than a run. The TARDIS has been sending them on quite a few romantic getaways.

“It’s always a surprise - that’s my favourite part,” Jack cackles, bouncing a balloon filled with laughing gas from Juun, an unusual find of dentist technology from a planet of rubber.

“Oooooh, that’s always my favourite part,” the Doctor giggles, tapping the TARDIS with his foot. A bit of a comical stretch from where Jack and he were cuddling and crackling with cadence. “Keeping me on my toooees,” he sings and Jack laughs along with him. They chuckle their way through sweet nothings, a lingering feeling that Jack just can’t signify. 

“So, does the TARDIS ship us now?”

“Ship….” The Doctor’s mind slowly processes what Jack said, “Yes - I mean, well, yes the TARDIS does  _ ‘ship’ _ us places, I suppose. I usually like to pretend I have some control over it, thank you.” Jack rolls his eyes at the admonishment. 

“I meeaan,” Jack teases, “That the TARDIS knows you have a crush on meee.” The Doctor looks bashful under all that blush.

“Shut it, you,” he knocks their legs together in an oh-so-convincing scold. 

“Aww, that’s not an answer,” Jack wraps his arms around the Doctor and pulls him into his lap, the combination of the gas and the friction send the Doctor into another fit of giggles. What can Jack say? It's pretty infectious. 

The two’s limbs tangle together as a tickling match of sorts ignites and both go in for the kill. Jack knows his own advantages with the Doctor’s sensitivity, but is utterly unprepared for the Time Lord’s own treacherous strategies.

“Think you’ve got nimble fingers?” the Doctor says, “I'm about to teach you the  _ definition _ of nimble.” Such a hefty threat sends Jack into bliss.

“Oh, please, Doctor, I insist you do,” he murmurs, deciding to play the long haul. The payoff is immediate. Jack submits himself to the caress of the Doctor. While with ticklish intent, the Doctor’s fingers feel nothing short of electrifying against Jack’s skin. 

Until a finger jabs his ribs, and Jack lurches, “Hey!” he manages until a string of shrill objection dissolves into, “H-HA, hey -  _ heeha _ , Doctor, please!” Jack is at the absolute will of his Doctor - his Doctor’s master strategies of tickling and devilish wit. 

“Hey, what?” the Doctor prods a few more locations on Jack’s sides. “C’mon, Jack, you have to tell me. Hey,  _ what _ ?” he teases ruthlessly preventing Jack from the satisfaction of quipping back. Cheeky bastard. “ _ Pleeeaaase _ ,” the Doctor whines, Jack laughs himself into a senseless puddle. “Please, I want to know what you’re thinking!” he has the nerve to pout. Relenting momentarily, Jack swerves his arms up to capture the Doctor's, effectively stilling his wild and trustworthy limbs. 

“I’m thinking,” he says to the incessantly silly man, “That you don’t know how to play fair.” 

The Doctor looks offended. “Playing fair? I was hardly trying,” he insists. Jack can only roll his eyes. “Playing fair is a pretty relative term, Jack, don’t go messing with relative terms-” 

“Or what, Doc?” Jack challenges, poking his tongue between his teeth. “What are you gonna do about it?” Just then, Jack remembers how well the Doctor takes teasing. Alert, childish wonder flashes across his face, just long enough for Jack to regret asking, one second away from his deliverance. 

Oh, this is what they mean by domination, Jack thinks briefly before everything else escapes his mind except for the onslaught of the Doctor’s fingers. He’s fast, faster than Jack would have thought the haze of laughing gas would permit, but Jack relents. He can do nothing but feel the Doctor winning the battle and hold out for the war. His cackles echo through the TARDIS in a cacophony with the Doctor’s own glee. 

Seriously, the Doctor knows how to tickle. Perhaps his name was actually nimble, because Jack is learning his lesson. Like a keyboard, the Doctor plays Jack in chords, scaling down the octaves of Jack’s sides, producing a melody of his own precious composition. Jack's laughter is like glimpsing the sunlight again. Maybe Jack  _ is _ stuck in this box, but the Doctor did not want to travel anywhere if it meant Jack would stay in the TARDIS. Only because his absence meant this lonely ship would be without spirit. The TARDIS is not very ticklish. Rose is still hard to think about. But this? This is not.

This is so easy the Doctor barely has to think at all, the fluid motion of his affection manifesting in totally new ways. A new laugh to breath. A new touch to trust. A new intimacy where there was previously resigned heartbreak. Losing Rose, did he really deserve another’s trust? Did he deserve to come close to his favourite nectar of human connection? To try and see the sun again? The Doctor was beginning to think… perhaps.

A wind chime at his whim, Jack’s subordination is a bit of a thrill. Something about feeling in control. Something about being free from domination. Something, something, something. Have to stop thinking so much.

The Doctor grounds himself on either sides of Jack’s hips, knees gripping the leather for entrapment. He rises a foot over Jack, looking down at the spasms of his touch. Yes, something about this is empowering. The Doctor leans down, attaching a nibbling and sucking pattern along the left side of Jack’s neck. The tickling begins to subside; queue Jack’s defeat in the war. 

Dancing fingers persist and the Doctor doesn’t feel Jack resisting at all. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, it seems like Jack melts into submission.  _ Well _ , thinks the Doctor,  _ that works for me _ .


	5. Chapter 5

Hips jostle in earnest, framing Jack’s lower half,  _ becoming _ Jack’s personal bubble. Jack pants and mewls in pitiful arousal.  _ Yes, now, this is lovely _ , thinks the Doctor.  _ Maybe I’ll finally put Jack in his place, prove just what a Time Lord is capable of accomplishing with his mere hand, with a body, with a soul.  _ The Doctor can’t help but be pulled along for the ride within his own tangent,  _ Ask me anything _ ,  _ I’d tell you _ . 

But that’s not quite appropriate for their state of nature and the Doctor thinks he better get a move on, anyhow. Hands tug on lapels, tearing them aside for more access. More, more,  _ more _ , until Jack has nothing left to give. The Doctor doesn’t even notice tearing half of Jack’s buttons open when his hands were shaky and taking too long. Jack absolutely arches, thrilled by this side of the Doctor.  _ Vanquish me _ , he orders in his mind,  _ show me what a Lord of Time is really capable of.  _

Nails, nails, and teeth, nipping and scratching in all the most delicate parts. Of course, the Doctor knows just about every way to get hurt, but with more pertenance, where to fear the hurt the most. Pressure on arteries, tugs on tendons, a little strain of the back, a sinister kiss to the temple. All of Jack’s dreams are alive and soaring above expectations. It'll be an honour to lose this war. 

The Doctor weighs on Jack, cutting off circulation, his legs and feet crackling with fireworks and blood flow restriction. Once Jack feels full immobility, he has a fraction of a moment to look up at the Doctor before the man descends from on high. The laughing gas is flooded out by lust.

Gone are the butterfly kisses, introducing tongue, teeth, a bit of a headrush. Jack feels his arousal literally pulse, aching, overstimulated, a high like no other. And Jack knows  _ all of them. _

A quick shift of the hips, expected, simple, but malignant. Jack seeks audience with a little reciprocation. Just as Jack’s hands reach to get the upper hand, the Doctor releases Jack’s legs, his minions thundering across his nerves. Pin-prickling, pain, pleasure? Pain -  _ no _ , pleasure - “Doctor?”

“Yes, Jack Harkness?”

“I think you should slow down,” he soothes and the Doctor realizes that his hand appears to be shaking- no, wait, his arm - no… wait… The Doctor is having a panic attack in a pretty awful time for that to happen.

Tight. Too tight, both hearts synching to bleed. Time Lords have a whole different breed of fight or flight, and now the Doctor is shaking on Jack’s lap. Tears -  _ tears _ ?

“Jack, what’s happening?”

“You gotta take time to heal. You can’t do it all in one go.”

“Actually, that’s the exact opposite of how I operate,” he huffs, but Jack’s arms close calmly. Dare I say, lovingly. Dare I say, longingly, holding delicate hands, caging a frail bird, a broken wing not yet healed.

“You were hurt, Doctor, in a way I don’t think you’re used to.”

“Are you saying I can’t handle it? Can’t handle being with you? Because I demand the universe give me this,” the Doctor growls, still on fire while his bones chatter away. 

“Patience, Doctor,” Jack’s heart aches, hushing the Doctor into taking swollen breaths, “Maybe in the meantime, I’ll fall in love with you. What would you think of that?” Noted, this isn’t quite the romantic moment Jack thought would round this conversation out, but the Doctor is vulnerable right now. Not to exploit pain, but rather, to play to his advantages. So hard to catch the Doctor on an honest day. The time is now. 

The Doctor’s eyes are shut. “You know, Rose is the one who brought you back. Back when I was a little less handsome-”

“Beg to differ-”

“Oh, so you think I’m less handsome now?”

Even though Jack knows it’s a quip, he acts upon his double-take. “Why do you care?”

The Doctor stills his finally functional hands. While their position is a bit wonky, hand-holding is universal and, well, relative. 

“I think this is meant to be,” the Doctor says all at once. Jack doesn’t move an atom. “How are we the only two she saved?” his voice going into wispy remorse. Jack’s fingers encapsulate the Doctor’s bleak knuckles.

“I never got to say goodbye, you know,” Jack murmurs as he presses a soft kiss to the Doctor’s hand. Feather-light, air-tight, soulbound. 

“I thought you hugged it out in the TARDIS,” the Doctor’s eyes soften with concern, no - grief, guilt, the usual. 

“No - Doctor,” Jack sighs. Now Jack is the one who looks distressed. His eyes trace the console, willing to look anywhere else than in front of him.

“Jack, talk to me,” the Doctor says, hand seeking to relieve Jack’s sudden anguish.  _ My gods _ , thinks the Doctor (it’s been ages since he honoured Rassilon).  _ What have I done? _

“You regenerated is what you did,” Jack spits, regretting it immediately. The Doctor does not say a word.  _ Well, this conversation has run its course,  _ Jack thinks and pushes lightly on the Doctor’s chest, “Come on, let’s get you tucked in.” 

His inflected tone of glee is one the Doctor knows well as a companion’s fallacy. Always trying to protect him. Always failing to protect  _ them _ . Useless, utterly useless. Damned -  _ damned  _ to inflict pain on those he loves. Because he can’t seem to do anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy howdy! what are y'all thinking so far? story-wise, I'm liking how these chapters are turning out, though lmk if you wish to see something happen!! i've got 9 chapters planned out and might cap the story at ten, but who knoooowwwws. stay hydrated!


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor eases himself off of Jack’s lap. Although Jack wishes the conversation ended differently, he ensures that the Doctor immediately feels supported by a friendly embrace and a broad shoulder he trusts to lean on. 

“Tell me a story, Jack, won’t you?” More of a statement, really. “A little story before bed. One that’s important.” The Doctor’s hands cross Jack’s chest, both now clothed, lingering over his heart, fingers pressing into Jack’s chest.  _ There it is _ , he thinks,  _ right there _ .

“Alright, Doctor,” Jack appears to relent. “Alright.” Before that, though, the Doctor hums to himself as Jack brings a basket of spa materials. “Wanna bet I’m good at massages?”  _ Oh my _ , Jack thinks,  _ Doctor, you’re blushing _ . The Doctor blushes more. “C’mon, I just wanna unwrinkle that spine of yours. You always have a lot on your back.” 

Jack starts to melt into the Doctor’s shoulder, a moan seeming to flicker from Jack’s throat, to his fingertips, to the Doctor, to his - now, which was it? What’s this feeling in the body? Groin? Heart? Groin? Heart. “Doctor,” Jack giggles, “is that a banana in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” 

The Doctor just groans, a thin veil of pink flushing as Jack’s hands continue to travel.  _ Keep going. Time and space. Me. All of it. It’s yours.  _

“Just because I’m traumatized doesn't mean I don’t want you,” the Doctor exhales, a truth that raw being hard to come by. And Jack  _ knows _ hard to come by. 

“Funny you should mention that,” Jack sniffs, packing supplies away. “Want your bedtime story?” Was that a clip? Did his voice just clip? Jack’s eyes are guarded, usually open to him -  _ always _ open. He didn’t know Jack’s eye could look this different, actually. Jack’s bones reverberate slightly. 

“So, Jack. What have you been waiting to tell me?” a voice so often animated is flat, undisguised.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to  _ you, _ Doctor,” and a hundred years fall from his eyes, “You broke my heart and I had no idea you could come back to me. I mourned you, Doctor. A park bench in Cardiff - ever walked there?”

“No.”

“Yes, you have, Doctor,” Jack says sadly. “Yes, you have.”

The Doctor sits up slowly as if not to startle a bumblebee. “What’s the bench for?” his voice low, sorrowful, subject to heartbreak. And Jack sees that, but the Doctor sees him see that, and Jack sees the Doctor shaking, and the Doctor sees Jack’s eyes shine. Where is usually a glint now refracts tears. 

“Do you know how old I am?” Jack’s voice is as light as the Doctor has ever heard it. The bench. The bench, the bench, the bench. The Doctor searches Jack’s eyes for an answer, a clue, a royal flush. 

“Twenty-one,” he says, voice still as even. Jack smirks, the Doctor trying to employ it back to him.  _ Please, see how good you are in my eyes _ . “How old?”

“I forget,” Jack shrugs. But the Doctor sees the pain. “Not even my birthday,” he shakes his head, “But I’m old, Doctor. Like you. I’m like you. Please,” Jack’s sincerity is unsettling. 

“What have you been waiting to tell me?” the Doctor says, small. Jack’s face slides into his hands and the Doctor sees it. He sees the weight on those shoulders. His tough, broken captain.  _ Wonder how he got that way, eh, Doctor?  _

“Not yet,” Jack’s head perks up. The Doctor traces his eyes carefully. Walls going back up.  _ Okay _ , the Doctor thinks,  _ anything you can do I can do better _ . Jack gives him a good hug. A really good hug. A really,  _ really _ good hug. Like, really really. Top five hardest to let go of.  _ Why? Why right now? _ “Let me think about it, okay, Doctor?” Jack stands on the Time Lord’s threshold. “Let me think about it.”

“All the time in the world, Jack,” he reassures, choosing instead to focus on a toy on his side table, “All the time, Jack,” his coo rose, “All the time in the world.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You are  _ not  _ allowed to have a vortex manipulator. Jack, we’ve talked about this!” Jack stands coolly while the Doctor looks enraged. 

“Oh, so now you get to tell me what I’m allowed or not allowed to do?”

“I just don’t understand - we have the TARDIS! You can go wherever you want! I  _ thought  _ that’s what we’ve been doing the whole time! Plus, vortex manipulators,” the Doctor turns up his nose and scoffs, “ _Toys_! Less finesse than Susan’s plaything!”

“You know, your superiority complex about the TARDIS has always annoyed the crap out of me,” Jack’s mouth smooths into a thin line. Knowing eye contact would compromise his demeanor, he looks to the console. Although he’s not exactly giving praise, she flashes lightly, as though winking at him.  _ Hm _ , he thinks,  _ what do you have in mind? _

“I’m sorry, but you can’t reverse engineer the vessel invented for time and space. You just can’t,” the Doctor’s tone is condescending and defensive. Jack sighs to himself.  _ Sometimes you make this so, so hard _ . With a hint of disbelieving laughter, “It’s irresponsible! And what could you possibly need it for?” As the Doctor flails around the console, the captain stands perfectly still. 

“I don’t care that you don't respect me as a time traveler, but you can’t just trap me here,” he snaps. The Doctor turns from him towards a display, his back to Jack.

“So you feel trapped here,” the Doctor does not ask. Jack balls his fists to keep his cool.

“So you don’t trust me,” Jack does not ask. The Doctor takes a deep sigh, pushing the monitor away for his face to fall to his palm. 

“Jack,” he says before twisting to lean against the console and look his captain in the eyes. “Do you trust  _ me _ ?” he asks. Jack wants to explode, though he settles with laughing and taking his own jaunt around the console. It is not a kind laugh.

“I can’t keep doing this, Doctor,” he says, duly noting the worry in the Doctor’s eyes. “I can’t keep telling you I trust you just for you to not listen,” he says, flicking a knob subtly. “What are you worried about? What would I be hiding from you?”

The Doctor’s insecurity slips out in a murmur, “I dunno, what are you hiding from me?”

“No, Doctor!” he finally yells, “Actually - yes!  _ Yes _ , I suppose I  _ am  _ hiding something. I’m hiding how much more I can be! If you can just -  _ trust _ ! - I can finally show you just the ways I can lead. How I can captain. I’ve just been sitting around and waiting for you to come to that realization yourself!” All the while as Jack distracts the Doctor with his commanding voice, he sneaks coordinates and buttons. His underestimation is a stealthy advantage as the Doctor looks and only sees Jack’s loud facade. After circling the console, he rounds on the Doctor, pushing them nose to nose. 

“I have never been the one not trusting here. It’s simple, Doctor,” Jack’s hand slides behind the Doctor’s back, slipping over a handle. He distracts the Doctor by looking at his lips. It works. “Do you trust me?” The Doctor feels Jack’s words on his lips as their breathing is so close. The Doctor just stares into Jack’s keen eyes as he begins to focus. He opens his mouth to speak, then shifts his focus to Jack’s lips. Jack analyzes the Doctor’s process. 

The Doctor seems to be thinking. Well, of course, he is thinking, but this is not his usual thinking face. The usual hypervigilance and bigger-on-the-inside thoughts collide like train tracks poorly designed. He opens his mouth once, closes, opens again, closes. Then the Doctor just holds his tongue. Jack does not move, hand still on the handle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah i know my chapters are short, but eyyyyyy it's a new style for me. get ready for a hefty internal monologue as we finally get a little more insight to how the Doctor's processing all of this. this is really a third-person narrative with Jack as the leader, but we're reaching that point ygm where it's getting just about as confusing as the Doctor is feeling (is that purposeful??? hmMmmMM. is it well employed??? ...idk). 
> 
> anyway, thank u for engaging w the story!!! even if i don't respond to the comments, they make me smile real big and even the smallest ones make me feel motivated to return to fanfic. any author knows just how meaningful a few words can be - that's why we find many of them.


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